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blazing, erupted around the queen. The shift
burned away into ashes.
Lorcan dragged Elide back, and she
allowed it, even as the heat vanished. Even as
the flare of power contracted into an aura
around the queen, a shimmering second skin.
Aelin knelt there, burning, and did not
speak.
The flames flickered around her, though
the moss, the roots, did not burn. Didn’t so
much as steam. And through the fire, Aelin’s
now-long hair half hiding her nakedness,
Elide got a good look at what had been done
to her.
Aside from a bruise along her ribs, there
was nothing.
Not a mark. Not a callus.
Not a single scar. The ones Elide had
marked in those days before Aelin had been
taken were gone.